


Strangers on the Welcome Mat

by FireEye



Category: Final Fantasy VI
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:34:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28186200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireEye/pseuds/FireEye
Summary: Traveling through the wilds of South Figaro, Terra gets an up close look at human bonding and what it means to have family.
Relationships: Locke Cole & Edgar Roni Figaro
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Strangers on the Welcome Mat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moemachina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moemachina/gifts).



“Locke, far be it from me to question your sense of direction, but where the _devil_ are you leading us?”

Locke shot Edgar a cheerful grin that did nothing to answer the question. Arms crossed loosely over her chest, Terra glanced between the men, at a loss.

They were off the main road, which _might_ have been a good strategy for dealing with any imperials trying to find them. Except they had been off the main road for hours, and the further they went the less distinct the track of road they were on became.

Another mile of wandering after Locke had the gall to turn them onto another trail, this one practically hidden, and they arrived in the kitchen garden of small cabin tucked away in a copse.

Whereupon Locke walked straight up to the door and let himself in. It wasn’t even locked, provincial though that seemed.

Terra followed him in.

Edgar hung back, brow furrowed and mouth set in an expression of frustrated bewilderment.

***

The inside of the cabin was small but cozy. It was difficult to imagine a life in such a place, but even so... there was a strange sense of familiarity, too, and it was getting under his skin. Edgar traced his fingers along the simple grain of the counter quietly.

 _The flowers_...

“Don’t you think we might be imposing on whomever it is that lives here?” he asked, rousing himself from his memory.

“Nope,” Locke replied as he stacked kindling to light a fire in the stove. Once he was satisfied with it, he brushed his hands off, and reached for his flint.

The fire burst to life without it.

Edgar was on his feet. Locke landed off his heels with a startled, “ _Whoa!_ ”

Terra winced, hands outstretched. Her fingers curled towards her palms, and she drew her arms towards her chest.

“...sorry?”

“Don’t be,” Locke told her, at the same time Edgar put in, “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

The two men exchanged at glance. Locke picked himself up off the floor and dusted himself off.

“Very helpful,” he agreed. “I just... keep forgetting you can _do_ that.”

Terra made a little sound in the back of her throat. It _might_ have been a noise of acknowledgement, of acceptance or understanding, but....

Locke bit his lip; he reached her first, gently touching her elbow. Edgar circled around to pull a chair out at the table. She sank down, but stared uneasily at her hands in her lap.

Locke retreated to give her space; Edgar squeezed her shoulder in gentle encouragement before doing the same.

“Locke...”

“Your _Eminent_ Majesty?”

“Cease that at once.”

“Sire.”

Edgar gave him a pointed look, and Locke smirked disarmingly.

“... _what_?”

Edgar shook his head, fighting the urge to return the smile despite himself. It vanished again quickly enough in a sigh.

“Whose house is this?”

“Does it matter? You’re a king – isn’t it your right to _impose_ wherever you feel like?”

He was deflecting and they both knew it.

“Hey, maybe try asking me what you really wanna know.”

Edgar swallowed. “Why did you bring us here?”

Locke scoffed at the question. Then chuckled.

“We were in the neighborhood; I thought we might as well drop in.”

Edgar tore his gaze away from Locke. He glanced about the cabin for something else to focus on, and found that even more overwhelming. His attention fell on Terra, still seated at the table but who was watching them rapt with wide, opaque eyes.

“C’mon, what are you really afraid of?”

Locke’s question was quiet, almost gentle, but direct, and it cut through the maelstrom of emotion that threatened to crush him.

“I’ll be outside for a moment,” Edgar announced.

As he closed the door behind him, he heard Terra’s voice, hesitant and curious for all that he couldn’t make out the words. Given what had just transpired, he held no doubts about what she was asking... and trusted, beyond a doubt, whatever Locke might see fit to tell her.

***

Terra regarded him quietly from the safety of the door for a time, before stepping down into the garden to join him. Still, she kept herself apart, as though her presence was an intrusion.

If it was, it was a welcome one.

“It’s alright,” he told her. “It’s nothing.”

“You have a brother?”

“I do.”

Her shoulders hunched. She shifted her balance from one foot to the other.

“What’s it like?” she managed to ask. “Having family?”

Edgar glanced at Locke, whom he was unsurprised to find hovering in the door. He meant well. He always meant well, at least as far as they were concerned. Edgar knew that with crystal clarity.

His gaze fell back to Terra. She regarded the ground beneath their feet, fidgeting with the small impatience of someone who imagined they’d overstepped a boundary.

“Worth every pain in the world,” the young King of Figaro finally answered. “But you oughtn’t talk like you don’t have one yourself; I’m sure they’re out there somewhere, waiting for you.”

“I...”

It was hard to discern her expression in the starlight, but the shadow of body language suggested she hadn’t even considered that.

Edgar breathed a measured sigh.

Locke, the Empire, Terra, Figaro, Sabin...

It was a complex web of things to be concerned about indeed.

“Hungry yet?” Locke asked, giving him an easy out.

“Famished.”

Regarding Terra, Edgar made a sweeping gesture with his arm.

“After you, my dear.”

She followed Locke inside, and Edgar paused at the door. The familiar smell of that so very particular herbal tea blend that Sabin had always loved in their youth hit him hard.

Maybe if they were lucky, Sabin wouldn’t be home before they left. Or, maybe if they were lucky, he would.

Edgar wasn’t sure which he hoped for more.

But Locke had gone ahead and made dinner, and Terra was pleasant if peculiar company. The cabin was warm and inviting, and Edgar knew in his heart that Sabin _wouldn’t_ want him standing around in the cold, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy this early game friendship shenaniganry. :D
> 
> (...my thought was to write it from Terra's PoV, but somehow... it managed to be more of Edgar's. Such is writing.)


End file.
